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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23991754">Permanent Visitors</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATouchOfCommonSense/pseuds/ATouchOfCommonSense'>ATouchOfCommonSense</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>In Which Living With Ghosts Becomes the New Normal [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Human, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Little Shit, Background Slash, But he's cool don't worry, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is Extra, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Logan Is Trying His Best, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Logic | Logan Sanders-centric, Podfic &amp; Podficced Works, Self Imposed Social Isolation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:01:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,299</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23991754</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATouchOfCommonSense/pseuds/ATouchOfCommonSense</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Logan bought a cheap old house in the middle of the country, he was overjoyed to have found somewhere just close enough to town that he could make a day out of going to the grocery story, and just far enough away to guarantee that no one would bother him.</p><p>It was perfect for a life of solitude… or so he thought.</p><p>*</p><p>Edit 5-5-20: Now complete with podfic! Give it a listen!<br/></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>In Which Living With Ghosts Becomes the New Normal [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>169</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Permanent Visitors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If y'all like this, tell me! I will totally add more one-shots if you are interested, just let me know.</p><p>Podfic on SoundCloud: https://m.soundcloud.com/common-sense-237659897/permanent-visitors</p><p>Edit 5.23.20: The SoundCloud link was inaccurate! This one should work.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took a single U-Haul truck and a half a day for Logan to transport all of his belongings from his tiny studio-apartment to his new cottage a good four hours away. Logan was never someone who held sentimental value in material objects, so his load consisted mostly of practical furniture and books. There was not a lot of room in his last place of residence, so Logan was already planning when he would go out and buy more reading material once he was settled in. He had plenty of books downloaded on his phone, of course, but reading on a screen was not the same as folding back the pages of a crisp, new book for the first time after purchase. Now that he was guaranteed enough space to compensate for his preference, Logan was looking forward to finding a quaint bookstore to browse after the move.</p><p>Pulling into the driveway of his new house, Logan let out a breath. He had made it. Despite his monumental student loans and megar online job salary, he bought his way out of civilization. From now on Logan could live as he pleased without the complication of humans to thoughtlessly trample through his day.</p><p>Logan had tried to integrate himself with society. After being home-schooled for the whole of his life, and self-taught for most of it, Logan knew it would be a struggle to become a social creature. Despite this, he had promised his mother, as she cried over a bottle of wine and insisted that she had ruined her only child, that he would try. For the four years it took to get his Doctorate in Organic Chemistry, Logan made a concentrated effort to make good on his promise. He vocalized his opinions and listened to what others had to say. He inserted himself into social situations when he was given the opportunity. He shared his knowledge with those who would listen. </p><p>Mostly, he was given little more than odd looks in return. Being social was exhausting and it was less than rewarding. After graduation, Logan dropped all pretense of a social creature. He found an analytics job for a startup company that had nothing to do with chemistry, but it couldn’t be helped. He needed a job and he refused to work with other people. </p><p>That it is not to say that people did not talk to him. It became increasingly clear that taking a trip outside in his flooded town meant unnecessary conversation with at least three individuals on a daily basis. Four, if he stopped for coffee. Despite his obvious distaste of their comments on the weather, people still approached him to “chat” all the time. What human beings’ fascination with speaking about things that are of no consequence is, he will never know. Logan felt like the universe kept giving him second chances and he kept turning down the offer.</p><p> A year after Logan graduated as the youngest student in his country to receive a doctorate he now has no intention of using, his mother passed away of liver failure. It was expected and predictable, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. </p><p>A month after that, Logan pooled the money he had been saving from his desk job with the money from his mother’s will to buy a country cottage. It had arch-topped windows and a well-kept front landscape. It was spacious, for one person, and an absolutely perfect place to live out his days away from the inanity of civilization.</p><p>Logan had only visited the house once before purchase, but he did not doubt the thoroughness of his inspection. The house was in perfect condition considering no one had lived in it for the past year. The well water system worked perfectly, the remaining furniture was in fine condition (if one ignored the layer of dust that accumulated over the year), and he was assured he would never receive a power bill due to the solar panels installed by the previous owner. Logan had half a mind to ask why the place was so inexpensive--things that sounded too good to be true often were--but he refrained. The need to get away from the cheery town that symbolized everything so very wrong in his world was too strong to inspect his rash decisions. There was nothing the house lacked that Logan needed, or vice versa, and that was all that mattered.</p><p>*</p><p>Logan placed his last book on his bookshelf with a satisfied smile. It was 8:52pm--three hours into his new life--and he was right on schedule. If he went to bed now, he would be awake early enough to shower and eat before beginning the journey into town and be back by noon. He couldn't leave the U-Haul in his driveway forever, after all. Logan’s lips quirked at the thought of leaving the U-Haul in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t as if the truck company knew where he was at the moment. Alas, he couldn’t abandon his own vehicle for the sake of stealing a moving truck.</p><p>“Finally!” A boisterous voice yelled from behind him, startling Logan so badly he almost fell spinning around to press his back against the bookshelf. “I thought gloomy here would never grace us with a smile.”</p><p>Logan’s eyes darted around the room frantically, looking for a person to match to the voice, but there was no one in sight. </p><p>“Roman!” Another voice called, this one sounding like it was on the stairs, though no one was there either. “What have I told you about announcing yourself like that! Look at him. You’ve scared him half to death.”</p><p>Logan was now blinking very rapidly. There were only two reasonable explanations for hearing voices in a completely empty house. Either he was having some sort of psychotic break, or he was drugged. He began running through what he had eaten in the last 24 hours and if there was a possibility anyone had slipped something into it.</p><p>“Poor dear,” the stairs cooed.</p><p>“It’s not my fault he’s such a sissy!” the wall in front of him replied.</p><p>Logan had made every meal in the last 24 hours himself except for three sealed bottles of water. That confirmed it. Psychotic break.</p><p>“He’s not a sissy. He’s probably just scared that he can’t see us.”</p><p>“Yeah, duh.”</p><p>“Roman!”</p><p>“What? I wanted to see him squirm for a little bit! That's not so bad!” Apparently Roman said, a little sheepishly. </p><p>“He’s hyperventilating.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, fine. Whatever. I’ll show. If he passes out, it’s on your head.”</p><p>With that, a goddamned prince materialized before his eyes. An honest to god, white-and-gold, metal adorned, blonde prince. With a crown.</p><p>Logan was dying. His mental faculties were failing him and he was going to die. He wasn’t sure what he had done to receive such severe brain damage, but he was most definitely in the process of brain failure and would be dead in a matter of moments.</p><p>“Hey! Hey, listen to the sound of my voice, okay?” Logan looked up at the stairs, which now held another human being he had never seen in his life. The man was wearing tan khaki pants and a light blue knit sweater. His head was adorned with brownish red hair that sat in loose curls, framing his face in a halo-esque fashion.</p><p>“Can you hear me?” the red-head asked.</p><p>Logan stared for a couple more seconds before nodding once. Should he have responded? Perhaps he should have ignored them and hoped they had gone away. For all of his knowledge in the sciences, he didn’t know the first thing about handling the process of going insane. Logan was a bloody chemist, not a psychologist.</p><p>“Good. Now I want you to breathe with me, okay? I know this is a bit scary, but it will all be okay. I promise. Ready? Now, deep breath in… and out. Good…”</p><p>Logan was surprised to realize that he had not been breathing a few seconds ago. With a gasp, he inhaled along with blue-shirt’s words, and released. It was easier to breathe instead of panic about the failure of his mental faculties. The men kept telling him when to inhale and exhale until Logan closed his eyes and let out a sigh.</p><p>“Thanks,” he murmured, decidedly not worrying about whether he was talking to himself or not.</p><p>“Don’t mention it, Kiddo,” the voice replied, soft and understanding. “Let’s start over, alrighty? My name is Patton-”</p><p>“And I’m Roman!” the prince cut in with a flourish of his hand, looking for all the world like he deserved an applause for introducing himself.</p><p>“Right.” Logan squinted at the two men--well. Logan was rather rethinking the whole “men” category for whomever was inhabiting his living room. The whatever-they-were were translucent. “You’re not solid.”</p><p>Patton looked down at himself self-consciously. “Nope. Not solid.”</p><p>Logan was off his rocker. He was still sure of that fact. He just wasn’t so panicked about it at the moment.</p><p>“Okay,” Logan said after another second. “Okay. My name is Logan Brooks and I am human.”</p><p>Roman’s face looked about ready to burst with laughter, but a glare from Patton shut him up. </p><p>“Alright, Logan. We are human, just like you. We just happen to not have very solid bodies right now.”</p><p>Logan nodded with a mask of contemplation that seemed to be holding the poor man together.</p><p>After what happened to be too many moments for Roman to wait any longer, he rolled his eyes and deadpanned, “Ghosts. Patton and I are ghosts.”</p><p>Logan blinked, then nodded again, and just kept on nodding. Being a man of facts and evidence and drawing reasonable conclusions, that was what seemed to be going on here. Ghosts made sense, in a ‘nothing makes sense and we are all in Wonderland’ sort of way.</p><p>“Pat? You broke him.”</p><p>Patton floated--oh for heaven's sake <em>floated</em>--down to Roman crossed his arms. “Now don’t you go blaming this on me, mister. You’re the one who revealed yourself just to insult the poor man.”</p><p>“I did not insult him!” Roman cried “I told him it was nice to see him smile for once!”</p><p>“Guys?” Logan cut in weakly. “Do you think someone could explain some things to me before I pass out?”</p><p>“Please don’t pass out.” Patton, for the first time since Logan had seen him, looked very unsettled. Logan sent a questioning look towards Roman, which perhaps was not a very sane response, hoping one imaginary ghost man would explain the other, but Logan was thoroughly past caring.</p><p>“The last time someone passed out because of Patton’s appearance, they hit their head and had to go to the emergency room. So maybe you should, like, sit down or something?”</p><p>Logan thought sitting down sounded like a great idea. The overstuffed maroon armchair adjacent to the fireplace looked perfect for just that.</p><p>Logan continued to stare at Patton and Roman as he sat, half-believing they would disappear if he looked away. </p><p>“So,” Logan began. “You are... ghosts.”</p><p>“I’m glad we don’t have to do this every day. I’m bored of it already,” Roman inserted helpfully, flopping down in the chair beside Logan.</p><p>“Roman, hush.”</p><p>Logan pressed on. “From what I have gathered from folklore and the like, one has to cease living to be categorized as a ghost. If you did die--by which I mean your corporeal bodies ceased to function--how so?”</p><p>Ron and Patton both flinched and looked away. Logan could be very blunt if he did not censor himself. If was one of the many, many reasons he had (attempted to) choose a life of solitude. </p><p>Time to rectify. “That… was probably insensitive. Apologies.”</p><p>Patton rubbed at his neck, still slightly uncomfortable, but forgiving enough. “That’s alright, Kiddo. It’s hard to navigate a situation you don’t know anything about.” Patton dragged his eyes back to Logan and gave a weak smile. Roman, on the other hand, did not respond.</p><p>Logan grimaced and decided to reroute the conversation destination. He could research later; now was not the time to satiate his want for knowledge. “Is this your house, then?”</p><p>“You bought the house, silly. It’s your house!”</p><p>“Legally, yes. But you two inhabited this space before me. That does make it more your house than mine.”</p><p>“However you want to think about it, Teach. We aren’t going to force you out of your home, if that’s what you’re asking.”</p><p>“I am not a teacher.”</p><p>“Whatever, Teach.” Roman began inspecting his nails and deliberately not looking at Logan, who was not fond of the obvious intagination. He did not foresee a smooth future relationship with this character.</p><p>Logan took a deep breathe and let it out, not willing to let the princely character get the best of him just yet. “Alright. Just to be clear, we are going to cohabit his house for the foreseeable future?”</p><p>“If you’ll have us, then yes!”</p><p>“If I’ll- Patton. I’m not going to force you out of your home.” Logan may be annoyed with human interaction (and probably genuinely insane because of it), but he wasn’t a monster.</p><p>“Good!” Roman said cheerily. “‘Cause we can’t actually leave. Pat was just being nice.”</p><p>Logan looked from the ghost sitting in his chair to the ghost hovering (both physically and metaphorically) in the center of his living room.</p><p>“I am going up to bed. I am very confused and I have things to do tomorrow. May we speak later?”</p><p>“Of course, Kiddo. Just give us a call.” </p><p>And with that Patton sunk into the floor. </p><p>“You get your beauty sleep. Sweet dreams!” Roman stood up and shot through the ceiling.</p><p>Logan rubbed his face. He definitely was not going to get his eight hours tonight.</p><p>*</p><p>Logan awoke to the sound of his blackout curtains flapping. <em>That’s strange,</em> Logan thought, sitting up to survey the room. <em>I didn’t open the window last night.<em></em></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Groping around for his glasses on the table, Logan squinted at the window. The curtains were certainly moving but… yes, that’s what he had thought. After putting on his glasses, Logan could see the window was not opened at all. And the curtains were not fluttering in the wind so much as swishing back and forth as if being dragged. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Logan flopped back down on the bed and groaned. “Roman, you should know better than to startle me. I know it’s you.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Oh, really,” a voice replied. It spoke to how half-awake Logan was when he did not instantly realize that the voice did not belong to Roman.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Yes really. You are not amusing to me, nor do you wrack me with fear. Don’t you have something better to do at this hour? What time is it, anyhow?”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Time for you,” the voice dragged itself closer to Logan until it sounded as if it was right above him. “To open your eyes!”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Logan did just that and was mildly surprised to see an entirely new ghost floating just inches from his face. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Hello.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Hello?” the pale ghost screeched. “That’s all you have to say? That was terrifying! You should be terrified!”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Logan looked the ghost up and down. He was much more monochromatic than either Roman or Patton. Unlike the other two ghosts, his skin was almost white and contrasted starkly to the dramatic black eye shadow around his eyes. He wore an oversized dark sweatshirt, grey skinny jeans, and spider earrings on his lobes. He also had an industrial piercing on the upper part of his left ear. If Logan were more familiar with the alternative culture of the 1970’s, he would have categorized the get-up as goth. The only bit of color to be found on the man, which could be seen now that he was floating up towards the ceiling, were his black lace up boots. Said boots had a purple diamond design on the outside edge with white swirls up the ankle.<br/>
Logan could think of little to say in the wake of the man’s outburst except, “You are quite young.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“And you,” the black ghosts spat out, sneering at Logan, who was still lying down looking up at the ghost on his ceiling “Are rude. Roman is a liar. He said it’d be a piece of cake to scare you! He said you almost pissed yourself when he walked in the room.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Logan raised an eyebrow. “And you believed him?” It was true that Logan was terrified when Roman introduced himself in a less-than-tactful way, but Logan had been up half the night thinking about that. He figured either he had real ghosts in his house, or he had a really active imagination. Either way, he had no evidence that either could cause physical damage to a person on their own so Logan felt relatively safe.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>The man pouted. “I’m not that young, you know. I'm only three years younger than Roman.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“You look about nineteen.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Hey! I’ll have you know I was twenty four when I-- when I… you know. And you’re younger than me, I bet!”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Yes, I am twenty two. But I’m not dead.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>The man winced at the bluntness, but then fixed Logan with a quizzical, almost amused look. “You’re a little strange, but I like you. My name’s Virge. Or Virgil. Whichever. And I don’t mind so much, neither does Patton, but don’t be bringing up our deaths willy nilly around Roman, alright? He’s sensitive.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“I- I can do that. My name is Logan.” </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>It was weirdly nice, to be claimed as likable. Even if it was by a goth ghost that woke you up at five am. It was equally weird to be corrected on social mistakes without any malice. That was something that no one but his mother had ever cared to do. Despite his youngish attitude and frustrating wake up call, Logan found he was growing fond of Virgil. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“I know. Roman didn’t shut up about you all night.” </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Right." Logan stared up at the floating entity plastered to his ceiling, wondering if he had anything else to say.  When nothing was forthcoming, Logan spoke again, "May I go back to sleep? My sleep schedule is already unfortunately compromised without being disturbed in the middle of it.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Oh, yeah, Pat did tell me to leave you alone. Hey, do you think you could leave Patton out of this little disturbance? I’d rather not have my ear chewed off again this week. I promise I’ll leave you to your sleep in the future.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Sure.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Great.” Virgil grinned and phased through the ceiling he was previously relaxing against. So much for the law of gravity. Among other things.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Logan closed his eyes. He had a million things running through his head, but when didn't he? There were ghosts in his house. They probably weren't in his imagination. He would research the effects of isolation just in case. If there really were ghosts in his house, can he deal with them? Virgil seemed accepting enough of his faux pas, but not everybody was. What if Roman reacted badly to something he said on accident and they turned against him? He could not afford to lose this house. He had spent every last dime of his savings on it, despite the low price. He was could not let some ghosts drive him out of his home, especially when 2/3 of them seemed nice enough. Unless...</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Stop. Everything was going to be fine. And even if it wasn't, his problems were things to be thought about with a full nights rest. In his attempt to fall asleep, Logan employed a tactic he had been using since he was eight years old.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>One thousand. Nine hundred and ninety nine. Nine hundred and ninety eight...</em>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And that is all I have for you so far! I wanted to get this out sooner but you know how it is. I hope you are all safe and happy and well!</p><p>Seriously, let me know if you want more. I don't have anything started, but I will write more installments in this series if feedback if positive!</p><p>*</p><p>Guys. No spoilers but I am dying over the latest Sanders Sides. I'm honestly so worried for all of them I could rant all day about how much they need hugs. Okay, that's all I can say without giving anything away.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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